


Bad Gasket

by Danganphobia



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Mechanic Gueira AU, Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, strangers to ????? first date, they don't GET TOGETHER but something does happen at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danganphobia/pseuds/Danganphobia
Summary: Meis' new car his brother got for him breaks down.He has no choice but to find the nearest auto repair place to get it fixed. Except the mechanic there's hot. Extremely, and maybe a little rude.They get acquainted anyway because the car still needs to get fixed.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Bad Gasket

**Author's Note:**

> taking a break from my longfic to write something cute. this was for an assignment which explains the lack of other characters, lol. but here's some mechanic gueira for the soul.

To put it simply, Meis was going to kill Tommy.

His brother had surprised him with a new blue Mustang for his twenty seventh birthday— _a way to reconcile for all the hard times we dealt with back at home_ —he said, which was generous of him. After Meis left home to pursue what seems like an out of reach attempt at making music they didn’t see eye to eye about that, got into a disagreement, and since then it’s been a little stiff between them.

He’s aware that he’s not as close as he used to be with his older brother, but that tends to happen when years pass and one of them goes off to college, then to medical school, while the other slaved away at a conservatory that led Meis here. In his early twenties, moving to a new city at the ripe age of twenty-two with hopes and dreams, just like any young adult ready to finally leave home and do something with their lives so his parents didn’t think he’d be a depressed loner his entire life.

Except he wasn’t expecting Tommy to surprise him with a new car. He’s a surgeon, he makes a lot of money—and he doesn’t goat about it, at least, but it was pretty impressive. Meis was in desperate need of a new car and performing full-time at clubs with his band gave him the money that was immediately pocketed to pay his bills.

At first, he thought this was the most convenient time possible to drive around in a gorgeous looking car, an old model and crazy expensive. Then he started experiencing problems.

It didn’t make _sense_ ; the car was refurbished. It’s not _brand new_ per say, but it was meant to function as if it were. He decided to drive to the studio where he practiced with his bandmates early in the afternoon and noticed that his car is acting up big time.

It started when he sat there for fifteen minutes trying to start it up, and then it started smoking from the back.

“What?” Meis frowned, looking back and seeing the smoke arising from the rear end. “You gotta be kiddin’ me…” he’s definitely going to be late.

He didn’t know what to do.

Back when he had his old car it didn’t run into any disastrous problems such as this, the most he did was take trips to the car wash.

Now, a broken car? He was pretty much clueless.

Meis pulled out his phone, desperate for a solution. He googled if there were any auto shops nearby that could repair his car, stressed beyond belief that he was going to be late for practice—and it wasn’t his fault—but _still_.

He was far too frustrated to call Tommy right away about this and a little embarrassed given that he spent a fortune on this, and it got janked anyway.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

The first result that popped up was a place called _Castellanos’ Repairs_ —it earned a five-star rating. Seemed decent enough. He’s no critic, he didn’t really care whether or not the service was stellar or anything, what really caught his eye was that it was only half a mile away and he could make it there within a few minutes.

Bingo.

Meis drove over there. He texted his bandmates he couldn’t make it today, something came up. He’s not going into the details because it wasn’t anyone’s business but his to deal with.

Shouldn’t take too long… if only he knew jack about what to do in this situation.

The place wasn’t too shabby or anything. A dull gray building, concrete walls, the name of the shop drilled somewhere up above, front and center.

He’s passed by repair shops before, looked like a giant open garage from the outside. Sometimes there’d be cars inside and people walking around.

But it looked completely empty.

Meis checked his phone again. The business was open starting from nine in the morning up until midnight. Unless this was a mistake, he hoped he didn’t waste his time coming here for no reason.

He hesitantly strolled inside, feeling the cool air blowing from the large fan present in the room. Certainly nothing like he wouldn’t expect to see in a shop, cars that looked like they needed a fix inside and tons of equipment.

Meis was looking around. He didn’t hear footsteps until another gravel voice spoke.

“Hey.”

He jumped, having a heart attack. “ _Fuck_ —”

Meis turned around, coming face to face with another man. The first thing he noticed was his wild red hair, tied back into a half-ponytail, the goggles lifted up his head, his facial hair, strong jaw and cheekbones, down to the unzipped jumpsuit on his person revealing a plain tank he wore underneath.

“Can I help you?”

Meis kept staring, blinking.

He was expecting some greasy old guy to come waltzing in, bulging fat stomach and motor oil on his clothes, _anyone but him._

He didn’t realize the man was talking to him when he snapped out of his daze.

 _“…Hey.”_ Meis blinked again.

The man started signing to Meis with his hands, which utterly confused him.

Meis shook his head. “Um, sorry. I hear you.”

“You don’t speak through sign language.” His voice was blunt, almost like it hadn’t even been a question at all.

“No…?” Meis answered.

“I thought you couldn’t hear what I was saying.”

“I’m not deaf.” Meis blurted, “I can read your lips just fine and hear what you’re saying.”

“Okay.” The handsome stranger nodded. “So can I help you?”

“Where… where did you…?” Meis trailed off, “I thought no one was here.”

The stranger cocked his head over to where he was originally, fixing up a car. “Was under there, busy.” He said. “Saw you come in.”

“Oh.”

The staring contest continued.

“My car.” Meis found the right words to say, “there’s something wrong with it, and I don’t know what to do. It’s supposed to be a brand new one I got from my brother,” he shut his eyes because he had no idea if that was supposed to be any kind of important to the situation, “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Can you check it out?”

The stranger didn’t say anything, and Meis wasn’t sure if he was just processing his words and being patient, he was rambling on or if he looked like a complete idiot.

“I can check it out.” He responded.

Meis let out the biggest sigh of relief.

He didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable being here, he just didn’t know what to do in this setting. While the stranger checked out his car he fidgeted around.

It’s over ninety-five degrees today and the fan in the room felt like a blessing. It didn’t help that he was sweating walking in here.

He hesitantly took a seat on the couch, hoping that this would be over with quickly.

“Hey.”

Meis stood up. “Yeah, what’s up?” he did an awkward half-walk and half-jog over, but the other man stopped him and directed him back to the couch.

“You can sit.” He said.

Meis nodded, walking back to the couch. He tried not to bounce his leg and play it cool. The man just looked at him, went toward the back of the shop. Meis leaned over, curious to see where the Hell he went. He still had somewhere to be right now.

He came out of the break room with a cold bottle of water, handing it over to Meis.

Oh.

“Thanks…” Meis accepted it.

“Motor oil.” The stranger said.

“What.” Meis blinked, “Like. Like a leak?”

The mechanic shrugged. “Possibly. Could be that the PCV tube is clogged, the piston ring needs to be replaced. A leakage, the oil filler, or the electrical wires. People come with smoke comin’ outta their shit for tons of reasons.”

“I mean.” Meis assumed he was supposed to know what he was talking about, “Yeah, obviously. Because… it would _suck_ for the engine—” he saw the mechanic’s blank stare while he talked, unsure whether he just wanted Meis to stop speaking or he was waiting for him to finish. “It’s um, clearly damaged, somewhere.”

“Where?” The mechanic asked, challenging him.

Meis scratched his head, “Like what you said,” he quickly covered up his tracks, “which is what I was definitely thinkin’. It’s gotta be the um.” He remembered what the stranger said, “The P… CT.”

The mechanic didn’t look convinced, actually, Meis isn’t sure if he wore any other facial expressions other than just fucking _flat_ , dead stares. “Give me about a week.”

Meis’ eyes blinked rapidly, gawking like a fish out of water. “Sorry, _sir_ —” he stammered, “b-but would you be so kind to repeat that for me?”

“A week.” The mechanic responded, as monotone as before.

“I thought it’d take like a _day_ or somethin’,” Meis said, “or at least _two_.”

“It ain’t safe to sit in your car when the tailpipe’s smokin’ like that.” The mechanic informed him. “God forbid that shit just blew up if it were any worse.”

Meis was about to have a stroke, “ _blow up_ —” he laughed, “Listen I gotta get to band practice.”

“School marching band?”

Meis was offended, despite his unapologetic assumption. “I graduated college.”

He just stared at him.

“...Two years ago, but that ain’t the point.” He argued, “I’m. I’m in a band.” Just a garage band that played at bars and clubs sometimes, but he wasn’t going to explain himself to a mechanic that just assumed he was younger than legal age.

The mechanic looked like he didn’t give a shit. “Cute.” He said. Almost like he was teasing. “Kids from the high school come here all the time because they like to street race. It’s summer.”

“Street race.”

“Yeah.” Meis wondered how that turned out.

“I’m an adult.” He blurted.

“You’re still young.”

“I’m, I’m really _not_ — how old are _you?_ ” Meis countered.

“Thirty-four.” The mechanic answered.

_Oh._

He’s an old fart then.

Meis decided it wasn’t worth arguing any further, “do I really gotta wait a week to fix a stupid car?”

“Sometimes it takes a few days. Sometimes it takes weeks.” The mechanic shrugged. “Give me your number.” He stretched out a hand.

“What?”

“Your number so I can call you.” He said, as if Meis didn’t comprehend the concept of customer service.

“I’m not comfortable with giving my number out to strangers.” Meis refused.

“So come back to the shop in a week.” The mechanic compromised, a little miffed.

“…That would be,” Meis counted the days from now, another seven days… “next Saturday.”

Again, with the dead stare. Meis glared back at him, taking his water bottle and turning around to leave the shop. He’s a little rude. He didn’t sign up to be here with a broken car either.

“We need to discuss the price.”

Meis rolled his eyes and turned around. “Shouldn’t even cost much.” He drank from his water bottle.

The mechanic approached him slowly, as much as Meis pulled a good poker face—he was a little intimidated by the look in his eyes. “Do you have two-thousand to pay up front?” he asked.

Meis choked mid-drinking, quickly hiding it by wiping his mouth and swallowing quickly.

_Fuck._

Meis didn’t.

“Two-thousand.” Meis stomped up to his apartment and slammed the door shut. First, he trudged along to his bandmates’ place for practice _on foot_ because he wasn’t going to wait thirty minutes at the bus stop. They were understanding about it, said that accidents happened all the time, and offered him a ride home.

He didn’t want to bother them, so he ended up taking a bus ride back home in the summer heat. It didn’t take him straight to his shabby building so he had to walk the rest of the way there.

Nobody just had two-thousand dollars lying around for this shit. If he’d known about this beforehand and did a little research maybe he would’ve been more prepared. He wanted to be angry at his brother for handing him a crappy car, but then again—he didn’t do this _intentionally._ He just had shit luck. Meis dragged his hands over his face. The mechanic was nice enough to ask him to pay what he could up front now and see what else he’s got the next week, and they could arrange something. But he was pretty adamant that he still had to pay the damn money to fix the car or else he’s not offering any service. Dick.

He didn’t touch his savings since they were for emergencies only, most of which he’s saved throughout college and he had loan debt to pay off—bills included. Not that he wouldn’t be able to pay it in time… it just meant they needed to hustle for more gigs.

He grabbed the empty can of Quaker Oats in the kitchen where he kept leftover money inside in case he’s short on cash money for rent, sat on his bed, the AC in the room on full blast.

Meis lit a cigarette, counting the wad of bills in his hand.

…. This totaled up to approximately a thousand and sixty. He’s nine-hundred and forty bucks short.

He shoved the money back in the can and flopped back on his bed. He’s not going to rip Tommy a new one when he’d probably blame him for messing up the car himself when he definitely didn’t do anything to damage it this badly.

He can think of an alternative…

They played two gigs the next three days and none of it barely paid enough that would cover all of what Meis needed. The mechanic wasn’t offering any discounts, unfortunately.

Luckily, Benji mentioned that they landed a gig at an expensive club that’s paying big money. So Meis was sold on that.

He came home with a hundred more than he needed to pay for the new parts to his car. All he needed to do was come back the next morning.

He begrudgingly handed it to the mechanic.

“All two-thousand.” Meis said smugly, “in case you’re wondering I didn’t sell crack to come up with this shit. But you know I can afford it now.”

The mechanic was smoking through a cigar, studying Meis. He took the money wordlessly, and had the audacity to count it bill by bill in front of him, smoke wisping from his cigar.

“Don’t worry, I counted beforehand.” Meis smiled sweetly. The mechanic’s gaze flickered up at him, irritated, and he pocketed the money.

Meis made a face at him, expecting a thank you, or at least something. But this guy only spoke a sentence or two or none if not prompted. He just turned around, and Meis watched him.

“Hello?”

“Come.” He didn’t even turn around!

Meis reluctantly followed him into the shop, and when his eyes landed on his car, he was so relieved to see that Dallas was in good condition.

“So. Like.” Meis frowned, “she’s… she’s good.”

“No, she’s fucked.”

Meis blinked. “Whaddya mean?” he’s pissed now, “well you said to come back in a week and you can’t even fix her you’re a damn _mechanic_ , do your mechanic _magic_ —”

“—She’s good.” The mechanic tapped the front hood, gloves on, “we just had to replace the gasket and check the crankcase.”

“The—the what?”

“The gasket.” The mechanic repeated, “the seal for the engine block.”

Meis shook his head, “I thought you said you couldn’t fix it.”

“I thought you’d know what a joke is.”

Meis laughed, utterly speechless.

“Very funny.”

“Call us if there’s any problems.” The mechanic informed him. “Most the time, people usually don’t come back. But problems are frequent with older models, and this one here is a refurbished model. A rebuilt title.”

“…Okay?”

“It might look fancy and clean ‘cause it’s new, ain’t mean it can’t experience problems. It still was an older model.”

Meis massaged his temples, “but can you _guarantee_ I won’t experience more problems after the first repair?”

“No.”

“What—” Meis gawked, “but this is _built_ like it’s brand new. It cost a fortune.”

“Don’t matter. It’s less likely. But can still screw up. No car’s immune to any kinda engine problem. New or not. Either your bro’s scammed you or you just ended up with a bad engine.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Take your pick.” He shrugged, carrying a wrench over his shoulder.

Meis was done talking. “Thanks.” He clipped, and he got in his car; relieved to see it start up.

He didn’t experience a single problem on the drive home.

Except one thing.

…Meis realized he never learned the name of the mechanic.

He debated on calling Tommy.

The stupid mechanic’s probably just saying that to mess with his head. He wouldn’t get Meis a shitty car that broke down not even within a month of driving it.

He’s still angry. Meis had to endure a week of public transportation and walking while he was waiting for his car to get fixed.

The old fart (okay, he’s not that old, but clearly older than Meis) said that cars experience engine damage no matter how old or new the model was, which means this should be common. He’s the expert here. He should listen to what the expert says, but he’s a rude bastard.

Okay, as long as Dallas was in one piece, then he didn’t have anything to complain about.

…If only he could go at least two weeks without experiencing a problem, whatsoever.

This time it wasn’t with the car itself.

He might’ve thought the car was cursed. Meis came back from buying groceries at the supermarket.

…And he might’ve almost ran into the hot mechanic at the produce section, just _there_ at eight PM, also buying groceries. Instead he just gave him a glare, scoffed, and brushed past him. On second guess he’s fine with not knowing his name, he didn’t want to know it. Didn’t help the possibility that he could live nearby and they’d be running into each other outside of work.

The supermarket was a block away from his apartment building and preferred to just walk there for the exercise. But a lot of people came here even if they lived in the building two or five blocks away, either way, he didn’t care.

Anyway, it was on the way back he found a group of young boys on the block wrecking his damn car.

“Hey!” He shouted. Unfortunately for them, Meis took a few kickboxing lessons in high school.

“Oh, shit!” One of the boys alerted the rest of the group, “Let’s bounce!”

Meis ran after them and they hopped over the car, their sticks, bats, and carton of eggs in their hands as they booked it out the parking lot before Meis could catch their asses.

He dropped his groceries, too distraught by the sight of Dallas instead of running after them. They already made a turn down the block and dipped.

“Oh my God.” Meis sat down on the curb of the lot. This was bad. This was really bad. “God damn it.” He clicked his tongue.

He looked around. People were walking into their homes, across the block, crossing the street. It’s not the best neighborhood on the block, shit like this happened all the time and everyone just minded their own business to save face. He bit his lip, pulling his phone out.

No way in Hell was he going to waste time calling the cops on some asshole kids. He was an asshole kid who did asshole things once, too. Now he’s just an adult, and tired. Too tired to do anything that required _effort_.

 _What am I doing?_ Meis asked himself, calling the repair shop for the second time in two weeks. It’s still open tonight, anyway.

_“Castellanos’ Repairs.”_

Meis was close to hanging up, regretting this decision, then he stopped. “Um. Do you… by any chance have anyone available to come over and check out a damaged car?”

_“Is this an emergency?”_

“Yeah.” Not really. It probably still _worked_ but it still got _fucked_. “I just. Please. I really need help right now. I just got this fixed like two weeks ago and some kids just damaged it and I know that’s not your problem but—”

_“—Gimme your address.”_

Meis stopped talking. “What?”

_“Where do you live?”_

Meis realized he’d probably have to give out his personal information. Which he never did since the first time he showed up. He told the mechanic his address, “in case you need to know for protocol or whatever my name’s Meis, you probably don’t give a shit but I’m tellin’ you anyway, and I’m not in my house, I’m sitting at the parking lot. I just finished getting groceries.”

 _“You ain’t far.”_ Was all he said. So he _can_ do roadside assistance… except this wasn’t on the road.

“...If you can tell your boss you’re runnin’ out on another job, I’ll pay you what I can.” He busted his ass hustling from gig to gig just to pay him the first time. “Please. If you can.”

_“Wait there.”_

He hung up.

Meis stared at the line gone dead.

He didn’t know how long he was waiting, hugging himself, groceries sitting on the ground. He heard the sound of a screeching, loud motorcycle.

He thought someone was just driving by, but it steadily grew louder. Meis saw blinding headlights, the vehicle making a sharp turn into the parking lot and stopping right by his car.

Meis shielded his eyes. The headlights were turned off, and he saw the mechanic remove his helmet—revealing messy, long red hair. He took off his gloves and lifted his goggles above his head. A leather jacket on.

Meis held his breath when they made eye contact. He got off the motorcycle, approaching the wrecked car.

Meis stood up. “Okay, don’t get any funny ideas. I know what you’re thinkin’. And it ain’t funny, I ain’t lyin’ either.” He jeered, “literally just gettin’ my damn groceries and they jacked it. I don’t got the time to sue a bunch of kids either and had no time to kick their ass before they just tailed it outta here, and I just got this damn thing fixed. I don’t wanna hear it, I had a shitty week as it was.”

The mechanic simply surveyed the car. “…so this wasn’t a car accident.”

“No.”

“I’d sue if I were you.”

“We just had five gigs in the past week,” Meis responded, exhausted, “all late-night. I know I should, but I ain’t gonna do that.” He pulled out his wallet, “so how much is it? I can pay everything I have now and come back with more later, it’ll make short on rent, I don’t care. Just take my damn money.”

“Body damage don’t come cheap.” The mechanic inspected the dents, including the runny eggs that slipped down the side of the door. The wrecked bumper, and the slashed tires.

“I know. Would two-hundred do?”

“Put your damn wallet away.” He demanded. Meis frowned.

“I’m offerin’ you pretty good cash compared to the last time, asshole.”

“I’m not gonna make you pay me for damage that wasn’t caused by you.”

He could’ve just said that before.

Meis reluctantly put his wallet away. “So what do I do?” he laughed, thinking of one possibility as to why he was doing this, “I ain’t payin’ in any alternative you’re thinkin’ of.”

The mechanic said nothing, lifting his head from where he examined the shattered windows. “I can call one of my boys to come tow the car over.”

“One of… one of your boys…” Meis whispered, “are you—” he flushed, “are you the boss?”

“Who do you think you’re lookin’ at?” Though he wasn’t smiling, there’s some kind of sportiveness in his eyes. It didn’t help that his tone was always flat. “One second.” He pulled out his phone, “Yo, Robbie,” he said, “gonna need you to come down on fifth street, auto body repair. Can you make it?” he heard a stretch of silence on the line, “a’ight.”

He hung up the phone. “Give it half an hour.”

“…Thanks.” Meis said.

“Need help with that?”

Meis looked down at his bags, forgetting they were there because he’s been waiting so long. “No. It’s—”

The mechanic went and picked up the bags, “Show me up to your place.”

Meis sighed. “Sure.” He let him, the most he could do was open the door for him and let him inside. It’s not the best place. Improved over the years but it didn’t help it was smack dab in a street where people dealt crack in the corners, argue and shout at each other from their windows, and sometimes gunshots can be heard at night. But everyone just minded their own business. He opened the door to his place and the mechanic just ducked his head and stepped inside—careful not to hit the roof of the doorway.

He’s taller than Meis thought, idly trailing after him and closing the door.

“Um—"

“—Where do they go?”

“…Fridge. Fruits go in the basket though.” Meis found his voice again. He’s being nice instead of rude, which is… nice for a change. He’s telling this mechanic who’s name he didn’t know where to put all his groceries until there were just empty plastic bags he kept under the cabinet to reuse another time.

There’s silence once they’re done. Meis opened the fridge, getting two popsicles from the freezer section. “There was a heatwave today,” he said, offering the man one. “I know you get really busy, so.”

“Thanks.” He took it, and their hands touched briefly. Meis cleared his throat, tearing open the popsicle and eating it. The other man didn’t eat his, instead keeping it in his pocket.

“It’s gonna melt.”

“Rob’ll be here soon.”

“Who’s… who’s Rob?”

“One of my boys.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“You ain’t been around people who ain’t a talker like you?”

Meis smiled stiffly, “…well I can’t say I’m always a talker.”

Their conversation was cut short when the mechanic’s phone started ringing.

“Hold up.” He answered the phone, “Yo.” He walked toward the door, and looked back at Meis, who quietly ate the rest of his popsicle.

“Okay.” He hung up. “He’s here.”

Meis was a little disappointed. This was the most they talked in a casual setting anyway. But he’s only here to do his job, which was to get one of his workers to tow his car. “Alright.”

The noise was loud when his car was carefully towed up to be taken back to the auto shop.

“Hey.” Meis stopped him, “Seriously, thank you so much.” Now’s not the time to be petty and a dick about it when this was his brother’s gift to him, which he’s gotten trashed, twice.

“Not your fault.” The mechanic said. He sounded a little sympathetic for once. “We’ll try to get it fixed as soon as we can. Hope it don’t make band practice a hassle for you. And don’t worry, you don’t gotta worry about financial compensation.”

Meis was too speechless to say anything.

“Later, Meis.” He smirked a little, tugging his goggles down and putting his helmet on. He started up his motorcycle and veered off.

Meis watched him go, face as red as a tomato.

He gave his name earlier.

But Meis never asked for his.

“Hey, Tommy?”

_“Yeah?”_

“I have something to tell you.”

_“I just ended work right now, so shoot.”_

Meis was on his way back to the auto shop. Surprisingly, he got a call back from an unsaved number and it turned out to be the owner of the shop, saying that they’ve got it all fixed up. It took two weeks this time, but it gave him time to mull over calling his brother about what happened.

“That car you got me.”

_“Don’t tell me you broke it.”_

“You say it like you don’t trust me.”

_“Meis you know exactly why I’m making the assumption! I’m right, aren’t I?”_

Meis pouted, embarrassed. “…Okay but it wasn’t my fault.”

_“You can’t damage a car and say it wasn’t your fault.”_

“I didn’t crash it!” Meis argued, “I swear, the first time there was a leakage and the dumb head bracket or whatever needed to be replaced.”

_“The head gasket?”_

“Yes! Smoke came from the hood because the car _you_ bought for me is a piece of work!”

 _“Ah.”_ He heard a chuckle on the line and Meis didn’t understand what was so funny.

“Tommy!”

_“I’m sorry. Stuff like that happens.”_

“Yeah no shit.”

_“But you always wanted a mustang, exactly that model. It was old, but I found a place that was selling it and it wasn’t cheap. I wasn’t gonna get a hand-me-down either for it to mess up. I wanted to get you the thing you wanted since we were kids.”_

Meis walked slower, “you didn’t… have to.” He sighed, “because you did a bunch of asshole kids destroyed it after I paid two thousand dollars to get it fixed.”

Tommy laughed again. “Stop laughing!”

_“I’m sorry—just—yeah that’s definitely not your fault.”_

“Says the one who was accusin’ me earlier.”

 _“I’m sorry about that.”_ At least Tommy was honest. He was always the honest brother. _“Are you getting it fixed again?”_

“Yeah. I just wanted to call and let you know.” Meis wasn’t angry anymore. Not after knowing that Tommy meant well with getting him this gift and it wasn’t out of whatever spite he bought into the delusion of. He wouldn’t. Despite the countless arguments and pointless fights. “Thanks. For the car.”

_“Just don’t break it again. Any damage is all on you. It’s your car, not mine.”_

_Dick._

“Whatever.” Meis said, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

_“Alright, Meis. Take care, okay?”_

“You too…” Meis hung up the phone, standing in front of the shop. He could take care of himself on his own just fine. The past four weeks told him otherwise, but he refused to make his brother worry about this. It’s not a big deal. The car just needed another repair… and he hoped after this it’ll be good to go.

He walked in and saw the four kids get taken out of the office. Meis was confused, but his blood boiled upon seeing them.

The mechanic was behind them, holding them by the back of their shirts, shoving them toward Meis. He ripped his cigar out of his mouth. “Meis is here.” He said. “You punks know what to do.”

One of them, a shorter boy with messy black hair and brown eyes sneered at nothing in particular. But it looked like he was the leader of this ragtag bunch of misfits.

“You little assholes…” Meis fumed, “they’re the ones who messed with my car!”

“It was a bet!” One of them argued.

“A bet which destroyed my damn car!”

The owner simply glared at them until they all apologized.

“We’re sorry.” They said.

“You know it ain’t nice to fuck up people’s cars they need to take to places. Costs for damage is expensive.”

“They’re lucky I didn’t call the cops on their asses.” Meis grumbled. “I’d oughta strangle them right here.” But luckily, he’s being generous.

“We’re gonna pay for it.” The leader of the bunch said, scratching the back of his head.

“Tell ‘em how.” The owner ordered.

“Working here.” The boy sighed out, “do we _have_ to—”

The owner punched him on the head, “Yeah you do for the shit you pulled. They’re the kids from the school that like to street race and shoplift that hang out at the park a block away from here. They’re always startin’ up trouble.” He explained to Meis. “They see a fancy car and their first instinct is to break it in. I already gave ‘em a piece of my mind earlier.”

“They better pay me back.” Meis glared at them.

“I’ll make sure they do. I know their parents won’t like it when I tell ‘em what they did.” He grinned evilly, and that’s the first Meis ever saw him _smile_ like that—so menacingly, and the kids bristled. “Get outta here before I make ya.” He used the towel over his shoulder to swat them threateningly.

“You’re so mean!”

“Get out.”

“Fine!”

They stuck their tongue out at him, clearly pissed they had to work their butt off to pay Meis back for what they did to his car. Meis smiled at them sweetly, waving at them as they walked out.

“Over here.” The owner cocked his head over to where a blanket was wrapped around his car, and Meis followed him over. He yanked off the clean blanket.

…His car looked brand new, just like how Tommy presented it to him.

“Holy shit.” Meis checked all around. It’s spic and span, no dents to be seen.

“Fixed it and washed it up too.” The owner said. “All on the house.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Nothing we can’t do.” Meis noticed the fondness in his tone, and the way it tugged at his heartstrings.

“I should really pay you back.”

“No need.”

He wasn’t going to take a yes for an answer, either. Meis gave up.

“Thanks.” He said, “so… so much.”

“Mhm. Drive safely, Meis.”

Meis approached the car, his hand running along the smooth surface. It’s so shiny he could see his reflection.

“Um.” He realized he was running short on time, “I should get goin’ now. But thanks.” He said that already, he knew that, “I mean it.”

Just as he’s about to open the car door a hand stopped it, and he’s caged against the door. Making direct eye contact with the owner, and he held his breath. Heart pounding in his ribcage staring up at dark crimson eyes.

“There’s a way you can pay me back.” His deep voice rumbled smoothly when he said it.

Meis swallowed. “Uh huh.” He couldn’t hide the trepidation in his voice.

“Gueira.” He said. The way it rolled off his tongue sounded beautiful, gentle.

“…Gueira?” Meis repeated slowly.

“My name.”

Meis nodded. “O-Okay?”

There’s a stretch of silence, before Gueira looked him in the eye again. “Let me take you out on a date next week, then consider the debt paid.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
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> 
>  **[Twitter](http://twitter.com/danganphobia)** | **[Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/danganphobia)**


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